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Sermon 84
 Clara is third from the left front, May 31, 1936.
Isn’t That
Wonderful!
For the Funeral
of
Clara Barstad
Anderson
(1921–2015)
July 18, 2015
Grace and peace to
you, in the name of God the Father, Son (+)
and Holy Spirit. Amen.
On behalf of Clara’s family I want to welcome all of you
here today. It is good that you are here with us on this hot
summer day to pay last respects to Clara Anderson—a child of God
and our sister in Christ.
There is much to say about Clara. She was a colorful
personality who led anything but an ordinary life. I’m sure you
will have many stories to tell about her. But here, at this
moment, in this sacred place, we will recount the faith that
sustained her all of her days. A faith into which she was
baptized when she was but four months old. A faith which she
confirmed in Glasgow, Montana, when fifteen years old. A faith
which carried her through the many trials and tribulations of
her 94 years—right up to the severe dementia from which she
suffered at the end.
The Christian
Faith
So what was this
faith that strengthened her and guided her all of her days? It’s
right there in John 3—where we’re told that “God so loved the
world that he gave his only Son, that whoever believes in him
should not perish, but have eternal life. For God sent the Son
in the world, not to condemn the world, but that the world might
be saved through him. He who believes in him is not condemned;
he who does not believe is condemned already, because he has not
believed in the name of the only Son of God…. For the Father
loves the Son, and has given all things into his hands. He who
believes in the Son has eternal life; he who does not obey the
Son shall not see life, but the wrath of God rests upon him.”
That was her faith. That’s what she believed in.
So, as Psalm 23 says, even though she walked “through the
valley of the shadow of death,” she feared nothing because
Christ Jesus was her Shepherd. This was the “surpassing worth”
in Philippians 3 that guided her and protected her and gave her
the hope of attaining “the resurrection from the dead.” She held
on to this above everything else. She celebrated it Sunday after
Sunday in church, worshipping the Lord. She would always say
something about my sermons—how they lifted up salvation from sin
through faith in Christ Jesus. She liked that. It gave her joy.
Therefore she also knew what Proverbs 3 says that we
should not trust in ourselves, relying on “our own insight,” but
rather “trust in the Lord with all your heart.” So we are saved
when we trust in what Christ has done for us—saving us from the
eternal punishment for our sin and from the terrifying wrath of
the Almighty One—and therefore finally putting us on good terms
with God for all of eternity, as Lutherans have taught for
generations [The Book of Concord (1580), ed. Tappert
(1959) p. 561].
Holy Communion
I knew Clara for
over thirty-five years. She was a good friend to me. I loved
Clara. She reminded me of my mother—these two women of Norwegian
descent looked something alike. Clara helped us raise our three
children. They called her Grandma Clara.
When Clara couldn’t make it to church any more, her
daughter, Sonja, and I set up visits with Holy Communion on an
every-other-week basis. Over the last couple of years, when her
dementia worsened, there wasn’t much conversation at those
visits, but always Holy Communion. Often she would be babbling
when I arrived, and it was hard to get her attention. Sometimes
I could turn her head my way when I blurted out to her the names
of my children—Susannah, Ruth, Anders! Like magic, that would
give me just the opening I needed to begin the liturgy for Holy
Communion. Once that began, she calmed down, looked intently at
me, and participated in the liturgy—often joining in on praying
the Lord’s Prayer. It was amazing. Afterwards, I would say
goodbye. Sometimes she managed to thank me for coming. I would
tell her I would see her again in a couple of weeks. And that
was that . . .
Isn’t That
Wonderful!
But on one such
visit, a strange thing happened—like nothing I’d ever
experienced before or since then, for that matter. After it was
over I returned to the church office and told Sonja about it and
then wrote it down with the date, May 7, 2014—close to a year
before she died.
The visit started as usual. I was able to grab her
attention away from her babbling and begin the Holy Communion
liturgy. But then it took an unexpected turn. At the point where
I was recounting the Words of Institution, she surprised me. I
was saying: “After supper he took the cup, gave thanks, and gave
it for all to drink saying: This is my blood . . .” But before I
could continue with—“shed for you for the forgiveness of
sins”—she blurted out: “Oh, no!” It was just as if she had heard
at that very moment of the death of a close friend or loved one.
Thinking on my part that this was just some quirky mental flub,
tied to her dementia, I plowed ahead: “Shed for you and all
people for the forgiveness of sin. Do this for the remembrance
of me.”
But then, unannounced in any way, she jumped in again
saying: “Did he really say that?” Now I was confused. This
elderly, demented woman, my old friend, had thrown me a curve.
What should I say? “Well, Clara, Biblical scholars aren’t sure
that these words actually make up the authentic ipsissima
verba of Jesus” [Joachim Jeremias (1900–1979), The
Eucharistic Words of Jesus, 1966]. Or should I say that the
Church thinks he said them? Or that he probably did say them? Or
that I believe that he said them? . . . Thinking back on this
brief moment, it seemed to have gone on longer than it did. But,
by a stroke of grace, in a split second, I said what I thought
God would want me to say: “Yes he did.”
Not losing a step, Clara responded: “Isn’t that
wonderful!?” And to that I said: “Yes it is”—taking her at her
word and not thinking for a minute that it was just crazy talk
from a mentally impaired senior citizen. Here was Clara’s faith
breaking out from underneath the weight of her dementia. Here
was her faith having its say amidst the babbling of her
intellectual incapacity. Here was a declaration of her faith at
life’s end—“Isn’t that wonderful!”
Well, yes it is! Our sins are forgiven because of
Jesus—and so we’re freed from the fires of hell. Clara knew
this. She knew that she wasn’t forgiven because she was perfect
and had solved all of her problems and had quit doing bad
things. No, she was forgiven because of what Jesus had done for
her on the cross. She was forgiven because of what he suffered
and not because of her morality, intelligence or beauty. This is
good news indeed. It is the faith that came to Clara at Holy
Baptism and continued with her up to the day she died—trusting
in her Savior Jesus as she did.
What Clara
Meant
Shortly after she
died, I recalled these words when reading the end of a poem that
her daughter wrote in memory of her, “To Celebrate Your Light.”
Words by Clara’s daughter that fill out her exclamation, “Isn’t
that wonderful,” on what Christ has done for us:
No longer tied
to this world’s insane allure,
In your bosom
I’ll forever rest secure.
And like a
fledgling who newly takes its flight,
I will
gloriously celebrate your light.
That’s what Clara
meant—to rest securely in Christ’s loving arms; to flee from the
world’s insane allure. That’s what she meant in her shorthand
way, by saying “Isn’t that wonderful.”
Traveling Days Are Done
And then at the
end of the hymn we’ll sing shortly, entitled “I Heard the Voice
of Jesus Say” [Lutheran Book of Worship (1978) Hymn 497],
I see a further elaboration of Clara’s words. This hymn was
composed by Horatius Bonar (1808–1889) in Scotland. He stressed
throughout his many hundreds of hymn texts the second coming of
Jesus—to judge the living and the dead, and to lift up believers
to eternal life. Our hymn ends this way:
And in that
light of life I’ll walk
Till traveling
days are done.
Jesus is that
light of life. Throughout her life Clara struggled to walk in
that light. There isn’t anything easy about that walk—our Lord
Jesus even calls it a narrow way (Matthew 7:13). So she like
most of us knew both successes and failures, all mixed up
together. No doubt some days were better than others for her. At
the end it must have been especially hard on her—with her severe
dementia. But even then she could exclaim, “Isn’t that
wonderful.” Yes, indeed, it is wonderful to know that Christ’s
light shines among us and that we can, by his help, struggle to
walk in it all of our days.
Now, however, that
struggle is over for Clara. Her traveling days are
done—Alleluia! Now all the glories of eternity have been opened
up before her. The light of life, which is Christ Jesus our
Lord, is no longer a mere aspiration or hope. Now it is an
actual reality. Now she beholds him face to face. Now her
traveling days are done and all of eternity is finally hers.
Amen.
(printed as preached but with some
changes) |